


His Imperial Orator

by SlaveToMyKeyboard



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Beforus, Clans, Emperor Kankri, Inverted Hemospectrum, Multi, Non-Sexual Slavery, Past Abuse, no-accident Mituna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6536296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlaveToMyKeyboard/pseuds/SlaveToMyKeyboard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You glance at your resident member of the Royal-V spectrum where he stands alongside your signmate, your gaze drifting across his tattered fins and the twin scars on his forehead, the last remnants of the life he once knew. You cannot ignore another sharing in his former plight.</p><p>“Bring them in.”</p><p>((A Beforan-style AU where Kankri is the Emperor, His Imperial Orator, and has taken it upon himself to 'help' the cooler-blooded members of his society. Including any sea-dwellers that wash up on his shores.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Another One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @Krabkri for suggesting Kankri's title! (Go check out their work!)

“Another one?” You mimic the guard’s words, brows furrowing in confusion, “What do you mean by that?”

The umber straightens his back, perhaps mistaking your expression for anger, “Another sea-dweller, Lord Vantas, a violet I believe.”

You glance at your resident member of the Royal-V spectrum where he stands alongside your signmate, your gaze drifting across his tattered fins and the twin scars on his forehead, the last remnants of the life he once knew. You cannot ignore another sharing in his former plight.

“Bring them in,” you tell the guard.

He bows and leaves the room, returning a several minutes later holding a metal pole with a rather agitated sea Troll collared on the opposing end. He’s scrawny, not short just underfed, and in spite of his struggles, claws dragging on the floor in a clatter that melds with his rasping cries, he is easily brought to his knees. You stand up, removing your cloak before you descend the stairs to your throne, putting yourself level with everyone else in the room. You much prefer it this way.

Your visitor snarls as you approach him, baring his teeth long after the sound has died in his throat, replaced by the clink of metal as he fights against the shackles around his wrists. It would be better if you did not have to inflict any sort of restraint on him at all, but hurting you would only push him further down the list of undesirables, to a place even your heartiest pleas could not save him from.

“What is your name?” You ask him, bending down slightly to be at his level.

He seems taken-aback, fanning his fins outwards and then flattening them against his head, his eyes darting across your face as if the answer will be written there. You sigh and reach out, ignoring his snapping teeth to place a hand on his bare arm.

“You’re such a lovely creature,” you tell him, not missing the way in his cheeks flush a little as he meets your eyes – the hue is violet as you were told, a colour reflected in his beautifully clear eyes and, unusually, a streak of his hair. “Surely there must be something I can call you?”

The sea dweller hisses something in his native tongue, and you take this opportunity when his mouth is occupied to put your free hand against his jaw.

“Ah, ah,” you say, pressing your thumb to the corner of his mouth as he growls, “none of that sea-talk now, I am asking you a question and I would greatly prefer if you replied in a language that I can understand.”

He glares at you, silent apart from the rumbling you can feel under your fingers as they rest upon his neck. They always start off like this, non-verbal, defensive. Some would call them feral, but you believe this to be an exaggeration; they are simply out of touch with the rest of society, requiring a firm yet caring hand to be reminded of how to behave around others and take care of themselves. You look to the guard, assuring yourself that he has a secure grasp on the Troll’s collar, then you slide your hand around to the back of his fin, rubbing over the delicate skin there, right where the membrane melts into the rest of his ear.

He makes no attempt to bite you, and his growl falters to a whimper, his features reluctantly going slack as you caress what you know is a sea-dweller sweet spot.

“What is your name?” You ask again, voice almost a whisper.

He sighs, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Eridan,” he mumbles.

“How wonderful.” You smile. “Thank you, Eridan.”

He wrinkles his nose, as if in contempt of your praise. You’ll have to change that.

“Look at me.” You stop your stroking and place two fingers under his chin, putting a slight pressure there. “Eridan,” you raise your voice when he doesn’t respond, “look at me.”

His eyes snap up, lip twitching to give just a flash of his bone-white teeth.

“You will be living here from now until the foreseeable future, do you understand?”

His face goes blank, and after a couple of blinks, he nods slowly.

“I will provide you with everything you need, and in turn you will prove yourself to be loyal to me, are we clear?”

Another nod, less hesitant this time. For all the stories about sea dwellers being harsh and violent, the two you’ve dealt with have been by far the easiest to convince. All you needed to do was show them a hint of kindness, a single touch of affection, and they’re practically at your mercy. Even now, after only a short time with your contact, you can feel Eridan relaxing against his restraints, leaning into your hands ever so slightly, _wanting_ to be closer to you. And as hard as you try not to, you can feel yourself getting drawn in. Drooped fins, lips just parted, huge, pleading eyes, how could you not pity him? You blink and look away. It’s just like with Cronus.

“Take him to the pool,” you instruct the guard, “and use only a single anklet, I will have Mituna accompany me when I visit.”

You shouldn’t enjoy having power over someone – you’ve believed that for as long as you can remember – but you can’t fight the swell in your chest when you stand up and Eridan’s eyes follow you. You also shouldn’t enjoy how Cronus has been watching you the entire time, and if not for your signmate’s presence, you think he would have threatened the younger sea dweller just for daring to breathe near you. But you _do_ enjoy it, for as much as it feels wrong, there is also something inherently right about the way you can have the most powerful castes on the planet at your beck and call. You know your signmate, Karkat, feels the same way about his position of power, as much as he draws out acceptance of any offers to use it.

Eridan stands without protest after a single tug on his collar, padding calmly behind the guard as he is taken to his new, temporary quarters. As he leaves, you catch Karkat watching him, his pointed ears forwards and alert, face the very picture of fascination. You think they would make a handsome couple, he and Eridan. Both of them are so pretty, even when they scowl, and from the looks of Eridan’s eyes he is eight sweeps, the same as your signmate.

Yes, perhaps a little matchmaking is in order once Eridan has settled.

***

“No.” Your signmate looks you dead in the eyes, pausing even his ravenous appetite to let the word hang above the table between you, before he goes back to devouring his steak as if it will revive itself and leave.

“Karkat, I understand that things did not turn out as expected with Cronus but-”

“ _Did not turn out as expected_ ,” he mimics your voice whilst rolling his eyes, “Kankri that is the most dire example of an understatement I’ve heard in all of my eight sweeps; you tried to set us up pale, but if that smarmy fishfuck wasn’t so obsessed with you, we’d probably be Kismesises by now. Yeah, definitely not expected, good job there detective.”

“I am simply acknowledging that what our blood dictates of us will not always be certain when put into practice,” you say to him.

His reply is to once again sweep his oculars from floor to ceiling.

Your caste – numbering only the two of you – is blessed with apparently exceptional conciliatory skills, although you have vowed to never take a Moirail, nor fill any other quadrant, as living a life without ties is the only way to be a true ruler. However, not wanting Karkat to fall into the same lonesome existence, you attempted to set him up as a palemate for Cronus, the first sea dweller who came into your care. He was more violent than Eridan, and larger, needing to be in quarantine until his energy dwindled enough for a visit to be deemed safe. You and Karkat both had your Psionics accompany you, though with your combined placatory attempts, their powers were not required. But after Karkat’s initial bond with the sea dweller, things seemed to go flat; Cronus quickly learnt to control his temper, whilst Karkat’s bubbled into a stream of verbal abuse. It also doesn’t help that, as Karkat previously stated, Cronus has been so obviously pining for you after your initial meeting, something that you have long since noticed but cannot bring yourself to acknowledge. You will deal with that if it becomes a problem, for now it’s best to feign innocence.

“Also, I’ll have you know that Cronus is not ‘obsessed’ with me, he simply enjoys my presence to a higher degree than anyone else’s,” you continue with a remarkably calm tone, “and I do not believe that your dissolution into a pitch-like relationship was my fault – I clearly remember the choice vocabulary you chose to use in his presence, and if I were in his position I admit that I would have reacted to your behaviour with a similar level of hostility. Luckily, my nature permits a greater tolerance of the way you choose to conduct yourself.”

Karkat scoffs, “Yeah, you don’t try to actually maim me, you just fucking _talk_ me to death instead.”

You take a deep breath to suppress the growl building inside you, then stuff your mouth with food to stop the argument that you will inevitably spark by retaliation. The next time you look up, Karkat stabs a three pronged eating utensil into the slab of meat on his nutrition plateau, glaring at you as he picks it up and tears it apart with his teeth. You grimace and return to your own food.

The rest of your meal passes in silence – as is usual when the Captors are not there to create conversation between you – although Karkat does have the grace to say ‘thank you’ when his plateau is taken away.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” You begin, catching his attention before he can leave, “things may have been tricky with Cronus, but I believe that you will have a far more amicable relationship with Eridan, not only is he your age and, from what I experienced, easier to placate, I also noticed the way you were looking at him when he left,” his eyes widen, as if he is being accused of a crime, “you were intrigued, correct?”

You see his jaw clench, brows furrowing as a tide of scarlet washes over his face. You try not to smirk, but it’s hard to hold back when you know you’ve got him pinned.

“I was thinking that perhaps you could come with me when I visit our new oceanic companion, Cronus too, it would be beneficial for both of them to receive a little socialisation, Cronus with his own kind and Eridan with those who do not see him as a worthless animal.” You rest your chin on your hands, using them to hide the smile that is probably showing in your eyes regardless. “Don’t you agree?”

Karkat splutters a few syllables, then huffs, folding his arms, “Fine, I’ll come to your little playdate, just don’t expect me to play ashen if things take a ride up shit creek.”

You let him see the way you’re grinning now, “Excellent, thank you Karkat, your cooperation is much appreciated. You may go.”

He grumbles a “whatever” and slinks away from the table, no doubt on his way to complain about you to Sollux.


	2. Aquarius

That familiar, odd atmosphere washes over you as you enter the pool room; cool, damp air, the smell of saltwater, and… Something else, something you can’t quite place, but is only ever present when you have an aquatic guest staying there. Karkat follows behind you, dragging his feet on the soggy floor, with Cronus and your Psionics close behind him. You can feel the static already, Mituna’s crawling across your shoulders and Sollux’s prickling your arm as he gives Karkat a reassuring spark to his lower back. Cronus can feel it too, and his fins twitch as he tries to edge out of range. Sea-dwellers are particularly vulnerable to any sort of electrical stimulation; a mere spark to them is like someone blowing a whistle in your ear, overloading their senses. It’s part of the reason why you have the Captors as your ‘guards’, so to speak, when you interact with your marine brethren.

You put a hand behind you, finding Mituna’s wrist. You’re not particularly close, not like your younger signmates, but a light squeeze conveys your silent wishes for him to stop. You see Karkat giving Sollux a similar message out of the corner of your eyes, their fingers twining together for a moment before he lets go. You are unsure of their relationship, but there’s a niggling voice telling you that the reason Karkat rejected Cronus is because he already has his diamond set on another. You suppose you cannot stop it, but you do hope that he will at least consider helping Eridan.

You make your way to the poolside and kneel down, smiling at Eridan when he glances at you from the far side. Karkat follows, albeit a little delayed, and then joins you on the floor, making a face when he puts his hand in a wet patch.

“Eridan, come here.” You say, tapping the edge of the pool.

The sea-dweller seems hesitant, his eyes lingering on Karkat before he slowly makes his way over. He’s graceful as he swims, leaving only a small wake behind and barely making a sound. His chains only allow him within arm’s reach of the ledge you’re sitting on, but he reaches out to touch it anyway, resting his fingers against the tiles for a moment, before drawing his arm back against his chest.

This is the worst phase, the unsure submissiveness, where they want to give in to that abhorrent cast system they have been raised to live by, but also do what their preservation instincts tell them and fight you until their last breath. Cronus told you how confusing it was for him, and you can see that same uncertainty in Eridan as he gazes up at you with those saucer eyes, trying to gauge what you’ll do next. They look so alike, and you’re not being caste-ist because they’re sea-dwellers, they truly do have some striking similarities – most noticeably their horns, which differ only in size and- is that an extra spine above his fin? You’ve only ever known Cronus to have that – a tiny purple spike, no longer than your thumbnail, jutting out above what should be the top rod of cartilage on his ear fin. They couldn’t be… Could they?

“What is your surname?” You ask him.

The young sea-dweller tilts his head in confusion. Right, that’s not what they call it.

You try a different approach, “From which clan do you hail?”

He lets out a small “oh!” and straightens up, puffing out his chest, “Clan Ampora, of the North Sea.”

Another Ampora, and you never thought you’d live to meet even one.

“And what sign do you bear?”

He holds out his wrist, showing you two jagged lines, sealed there in violet ink, “Aquarius.”

An Aquarius too, that means he is a direct descendant of _the_ Ampora, not just a lower purple drafted into the ranks of his followers. Eridan seems proud, eager to show you his lineage even though he knows it could earn him a life in slavery. Good, he _should_ be proud. Making their homes in the cold waters of the North, alongside those of monsters that most have only heard of in cautionary tales from their youth, the Amporas are by far the most notorious, yet mysterious, sea-dwelling tribe known to Troll kind. They defend their territory fiercely, meaning that few have ever had contact with them, but they rarely stray far from their clan boundaries. So why have two of them washed up on your temperate shores?

You look to Karkat, who seems equally shocked by the revelation, staring at the sea Troll as if he has just shown you an extra head. Although finding someone else who shares your sign is not as rare as it used to be – thanks to advances in communication and teaching – this is something else entirely; the two sea-dwellers did not go looking for each other, nor do they even seem to recognise that they’re from the same clan, let alone share the same sign.

“W-what?” Eridan ask, looking between you with a frown, “Did I say somethin’ w-wrong?”

Karkat snorts, slapping a hand over his mouth as Eridan pouts at him, fins blushing violet and flared. Honestly, that boy can be so insensitive sometimes – it’s not the sea Trolls’ fault that their native language causes them to sound differently to us, it is the same as the Captors’ lisps. You have to admit though, Eridan’s speech impediment is rather more pronounced than Cronus’. Perhaps it’s his age, or maybe Cronus’ _was_ that bad at one point and being on land has lessened it somewhat. You shake your head and choose not to reprimand your signmate now – aside from a glare – but you will be sure to have words with him about it in private.

“Cronus, a moment please.” You turn and wave the older sea Troll over, patting the floor so that he crouches down next to you, then return your attention to his signmate, “Eridan, do you recognise my friend here?”

Eridan squints, leaning as close as his chains will allow, then moves back and shakes his head, “I don’t think so.”

“What about you Cronus? Is Eridan familiar to you?”

“Umm,” Cronus stares at the younger sea-dweller, tilting his head and then shaking it, “nope, can’t say he is, sorry chief.”

Hmm, how odd; they are from the same clan and born of the same sign, yet they do not appear to be acquainted or even aware of each other’s existence at all. You’ll need to do more research on this, perhaps Aranea will be able to help.

“Cronus,” His fins prick up at your voice, his attention solely on you – that shouldn’t be as satisfying as it is, “would you mind perhaps staying here and talking to Eridan? I have something to attend to, but I’m sure Karkat will be able to stay, won’t you?”

Karkat’s expression is sour when you turn to give him a hopeful smile, but after rubbing a hand over his face, he sighs, “Sure, why not? It’s not like I’ve got an actual life or anything.”

“Excellent,” You stand up, talking over Karkat’s indignant huff, “Mituna will remain here with you, play nice now.”

Your Psionic makes no attempt at a protest as you slip past him and leave the block. You didn’t think he would – he prefers talking to the palace’s younger residents. Probably because they’re more on his level, you think somewhat bitterly. Then you mentally chide yourself because that was highly judgemental and insulting, even if you did not say it to his face. Which is something that you would never do anyway, because for as much as he causes you no end of frustration, you do love Mituna, in the way one loves a mischievous barkbeast; with contempt and resentment until they curl up on your lap looking for a scratch behind the ears. That last part is entirely metaphorical of course – you and Mituna are nowhere near that level of contact – his equivalent to that would be helping you reach things with his psionics, and then not making a joke about your height. Karkat often teases that the two of you should be Kismesises, but that is most definitely not the case, as well as going against your vows.

By the end of your internal rant, you’ve reached the library where the cerulean you’re looking for spends most of her time. She’s not the easiest person to talk to – she tends to give you far more information than you asked for, preferring to tell a story if one is applicable, rather than just answer your questions – but you could never deny the fact that she is indeed very intelligent.

“Ah, Lord Vantas,” She says, giving you a small bow, “is there something you require?”

“Yes, I was perhaps wondering if you had any information on sea-dweller clans and signs?”

***

You sigh and drop the stone you’ve been levitating for the past twenty minutes, “Okay tho how long do we have to thtay here?”

“Well _you_ don’t have to,” Karkat snaps over his shoulder, “we’ll be fine with Mituna, so if there’s some big important thing you have to do, then by all means be my guest.” He gestures to the door with a look that says ‘ _I fucking dare you to leave_ ’.

So of course you can’t leave now. You stand up and walk over to join him, wishing that he’d stayed where Kankri left him, instead of shifting around to be within the circle of movement that the new sea-dweller’s chains allow. He seems passive enough though, content to lean on the poolside and listen to Karkat talk about the books he’s been reading lately. You doubt they have anything in common in terms of literature – sea-dwellers aren’t commonly taught to read above basic Alternian – but if it gives Karkat someone else to drone on to about romance, then you’re not going to object.

You and Karkat are- well you’re- it’s kind of- you can’t explain it. Sometimes it all seems pale; he’ll rub the bases of your horns when you have a headache, hold your hand when he’s nervous, and you’ll listen to each other complain about things – namely your signmates – but then it can be as if you’re nowhere near being quadranted at all. Like now for instance, when the sea-dweller glares at you as you sit down, and you find Karkat wearing the same expression.

You lean back on your hands, “What?”

“Thanks for finally fucking joining us,” He says, shuffling aside as if you’d actually _want_ to get closer to the fish-Troll staring at you like _he’s_ the one with eye lasers, “Sollux this is Eridan, Eridan this nookwhiff here is Sollux.”

“Charmed.” Eridan says curtly, his curled lip suggesting the opposite.

You scrunch your nose at him, “Likewithe.”

Eridan looks you up and down, then shuffles closer to Karkat. Well if that’s how he wants to play it, then fine. You put a little static into the air, not enough for you to spark, but you know Eridan feels it when his eyes go wide and one fin begins to twitch erratically.

“Stop it asshole,” Karkat hisses, smacking you lightly on the arm, “can’t you see you’re freaking them out?”

Oh yeah, Cronus is doing it too. Haha, sea-dwellers always look so confused when their fins move on their own. Mituna sniggers, earning himself a hiss from the older sea Troll. Eridan growls – it’s basically a whine though – and runs a hand though his hair, not-so-subtly pinning down his fin. He should look stupid, you should be laughing at him, but before you can curl a good smirk onto your face, you get this giddy little twinge in the pit of your stomach, the type that makes you feel sick but in a good way. Or maybe not a good way if you’re feeling it around _this_ fucking guy. It’s not him though, it can’t be, yeah he’s pretty but all sea-dwellers are, you don’t get like this around Cronus. You blame it on the weird, damp smell in the room, and reluctantly drop the static after another nudge from Karkat.

“So like I was saying,” He earns Eridan’s complete and undivided attention as soon as he opens his mouth – fucking suck-up, “the umber returns to the forest to see her signmate, and then because her Matesprit is clearly a pandead fucking _moron_ with not even the slightest concept of redrom values, she decides to wait back at the hive for her instead of offering to accompany the flush of her life like any sensible ladytroll would, which is _clearly_ just a plot device to separate them and give the jade a chance to reunite with her wigglerhood Moirail-turned-flushcrush, thus causing a rift between our two heroines and ultimately driving their story forwards, but still, I would have preferred a little more conflict y’know? Like, maybe the jade’s Moirail turns up when her Matesprit’s signmate is visiting _them_ , I mean talk about an opportunity for a little fucking character development right? They could have even had them flip black and turned it into vacillation.”

He continues on after that, but you stop listening. You always find it funny that he has impeccable diction even when he curses, he’d be great at making speeches if he could just reign in his language. You guess that’s what an Emperor-class education does for you. His handwriting still needs some work though. Eridan nods and makes affirmative sounds the whole way through his little speech, sending you a sharp glare every time you stifle a chuckle or pretend to be falling asleep. Either he’s decided to play up to the whole ‘Emperor’s cullslave’ thing with a lot of dedication, or he finds Karkat’s rants genuinely interesting. Or maybe he’s just scared of everyone else in the room, which honestly wouldn’t surprise you, seeing as he apparently went soft after only a few minutes with His Imperial Orator. At least Cronus lasted more than 24 hours, showed some actual sea-dweller fight instead of turning into a barkbeast.

Wait. Oh no, oh _hell_ no. Eridan is _not_ giving Karkat those fluttery eyelashes, there is _no way_ he is making that face at your- your _best friend_.

“Thorry to interrupt Mathter Vantath, but it’th time to prepare for dinner.”

Wow, okay, you didn’t even notice Mituna move. His eyes flicker to you, and then back to Karkat.

“Oh,” Karkat glances at his watch, “right, yeah, Kankri’ll lecture me if I’m late.” He stands up and straightens out his cloak, but hesitates before walking away, “I’ll uh, be back tomorrow, or something.”

Then as soon as he’s done speaking he all but runs out of the room. You roll your eyes and follow him, not giving Eridan the satisfaction of acknowledging the pout you can see in the corner of your vision. Hopefully he’ll do something stupid and get kicked out of the palace soon.

***

“Cronus?”

You stop dead in your tracks at the sound of Kankri’s voice, letting you hear the soft clicking of his boots as he makes his way down the hall.

“Hey chief,” You put on your most charming smile, “vwhat can I do for you?”

He smiles back, warm and serene in a way that just melts your collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system, “I was hoping you could give me a report on how things went tonight with your signmate, if it’s appropriate for me to call him that, I assumed it would be since it is an accurate description of your genetic relationship regardless of when you acquired knowledge of its existence, but it is often said that assumption is a dangerous game to play.”

“Nah it’s fine, call the little guy vwhatewver you like,” You turn around and walk alongside him back the way you came – it’s not like you _needed_ that morning snack anyway, “and I guess things vwent alright, I didn’t talk to him much, but he seemed to get along vwith Karkat.”

He claps his hands together, “Ah, wonderful, it’s just as I had hoped,” then he frowns a little, “I hope you don’t mind me orchestrating these little meetings between them, I know you had hopes for your relationship with Karkat, but I do believe that both of you will be better off moving on.”

How can he be so smart, but so _dense_? You don’t need to ‘move on’ because you never liked his bratty little signmate in the first place, the real heartbreak was when Kankri told you he didn’t “involve himself in quadrants” and flushed all of your hopes down the drain. Well, not all of them, you think as you hang back a little to watch the way his ass moves when he walks.

“Really chief, it’s fine,” You say, “I got ewverythin’ I need, an’ a Moirail ain’t one of ‘em.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this after only one proof read at like 11pm so I apologise for any typos!

**Author's Note:**

> Just an AU that I thought of and wanted to try writing in. The main thought behind this was what would Kankri do if he was given power? Try to 'help' everyone of course, with a healthy dose of his typical "I can say and do what I like as long as I justify it" brand of thinking.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Kudos and comments are always appreciated.
> 
> Check out my [Tumblr](https://slavetomykeyboard.tumblr.com/) if you want to ask questions about this or any of my fics, or just want to pop by for a chat!


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